The Just King's Companion
by Satipheen
Summary: After the war King Edmund picks up a strange companion. Starts during LWW and the years after... Edmund/OFC featuring all Pevensies.
1. The Dawn

Disclaimer; I do not own The Chronicles of Narnia – sadly and obviously true or any characters you recognise from it.

Read and hopefully enjoy!

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><p><strong>The Just King's Companion<strong>

**Chapter I – The Dawn**

Today was the day.

Rolling out of her bedroll she hissed, biting down on her bottom lip hard enough to draw blood as pain burning like fire laced through her torso.

She lay still for a moment caught in the exquisitely painful grasps of agony.

After a few moments the pain lessened to a more manageable level and grumbling under her breath she carefully manoeuvred herself until she was close enough to use the tree her pack was against to haul herself up.

She managed to swallow the wild expletive that rested easily on the tip of her tongue at the sudden burst of pain the movement had caused - as she took in the sleeping hulking forms all around her.

Releasing a long wavering breath through her teeth, she trudged as silently as she could past the snoring bundles to gain more privacy.

Once relieved she collapsed readily against a tree, casting her gaze forward.

The sun was barely touching the horizon when she looked to the East and a grey gloom hung about the camp behind her like a shroud, a few fires smouldering still visible dotted about.

She inhaled deeply, wincing slightly as the pain flared in protest at the movement of her ribcage.

Today was the day...her thoughts once more sounded silently and the pain for a moment was forgotten - because her fear was greater.

Limping slightly she made her way back to where her bedroll and pack was, walking as lightly as she could so as not to wake others but as she approached she heard the humming; loud and off-tune and she gave up her stealth in favour of speed as she hurried back.

As she neared she was able to distinguish the form of Hashnak hunkering over something as she hummed blithely.

She cleared her throat pointedly and Hashnak in response whipped round, her yellow catlike eyes narrowed dangerously as she bared her teeth, ready for attack.

"Gah - it's only you," Hashnak rumbled and went back to rummaging in her pack.

She made her way silently over to her bedroll and kneeling with a painful hiss she began to roll it up.

Hashnak looked over her shoulder, "what yer doin'? It's an hour or so 'fore dawn yet,"

She strapped the bedroll resolutely to her pack, "can't sleep."

Hashnak eyed her straining back for a moment, listening to her harsh breathing.

Finally Hashnak rolled her eyes, "give it 'ere!" Hashnak ordered, striding over and gesturing toward the pack she was struggling to lift.

She remained stubbornly still for a moment before Hashnak growled low in her throat and she relinquished her hold. Hashnak effortlessly lifted her pack and slung it over her shoulder.

"Where do ya want it?" Hashnak asked.

She opened her mouth to answer Hashnak when they both ducked just in time to dodge the missile aimed at them.

"Giv' ov'r will ya? Some 'f us are a still tryin' ta sleep!" the loud protest came somewhere from within the still slumbering camp.

Hashnak bared her teeth once more ready to stride in and make the owner of that voice regret he had ever been born at all when she put a steadying hand on Hashnak's shoulder, gesturing silently further away.

Grumbling under her breath Hashnak conceded, swiftly gathering up her own bedroll and pack and they made their way over to the slightly secluded spot.

Hashnak dropped their packs carelessly onto the grey-green grass, and after indulging herself in a loud yawn and stretch she smacked her lips, looking hungrily towards their pack.

She smiled fleetingly as Hashnak resumed her rummaging and a short while later a small fire was crackling between them, the tempting smell of bacon sizzling in the morning air.

She couldn't eat much that morning though as her stomach twisted in nervous knots. She sat on a small rock with the firm cold weight of her sword across her knees as she methodically ran a rag up and down the gleaming metal.

"Makin' it shinier ain't gonna make it better," Hashnak mumbled as she gobbled down the rest of her breakfast almost whole.

"Oi runt, ya gonna eat that?" Hashnak eyed her breakfast hopefully and with a weary sigh she shoved it towards her.

Hashnak flashed her a bright brief smile before wolfing down her second breakfast of the morning.

Despite her initial protests Hashnak had insisted quite forcefully on helping her get ready.

Hashnak bound her still tender ribs with boiled leather for more support before slipping on the stained jerkin over her torso with a gruff tug..."Favour ya left...keep close ta Druhk," Hashnak muttered pieces of advice as she helped her ready.

She nodded twice, trying to still the shaking of her hands by fiddling with the buckles on her belt once she finished, until Hashnak slapped her hands away with an irritated growl, "Leave 'em alone!"

She stood still then, fingers curling and uncurling around cold frigid dawn air, her breath coming out in little white clouds.

Hashnak heaved a sigh as she saw her standing with her eyes trained on the dew soaked grass below her boots.

"Be ready ta run," Hashnak grumbled as she gathered up the old bandages.

Her head snapped up, expression stern as she nodded.

"I mean 'f things start ta look bad," Hashnak clarified quietly as she hunkered down and began to cut up the old bandages into more manageable pieces that she could still possibly use.

Her expression had smoothed then into one of cool calmness that still managed to send a shiver up Hashnak's spine despite all she had seen.

"Gah - don't look a' me like 'at," Hashnak grumbled fiercely over her shoulder as she tossed a few unusable pieces of stained bandage into the flames in front of her.

She approached silently then, crouching down on the other side of the fire as she stared into the flames contemplating, the dancing light reflected in the dark of her eyes.

A few moments silence stretched that was only filled with the crackle of the fire as it devoured the twigs she had gathered before light had even risen that morning.

"They say we will win," she finally said, looking up to study Hashnak's face.

Hashnak sniffed at the air indignantly, standing as she brushed the scraps of bandages into the fire, and replacing her small dagger on her broad belt she strode over to her pack that was propped against the tree with a handful of usable bandages cut into rough squares in her hand.

She watched the rigid line of Hashnak's broad shoulders for a few moments before Hashnak stilled and sighed quietly. She watched Hashnak turn slightly towards her, Hashnak's yellow cat-like eyes gleaming dimly in the early morning light.

"They say many things," Hashnak grumbled, "but my dam always taught me tha' no matter how long th' night may last the dawn always comes eventually... I reckon 'is night has lasted long enough..." and Hashnak stood suddenly shouldering her pack and she stood with her, a flicker of panic claiming her features.

"You're leavin'?" she said and she couldn't help the words sounding like an accusation.

Hashnak whirled fiercely on her, "'n what 'f I am?" she challenged.

She lowered her head immediately to show she had meant no threat and Hashnak begrudgingly relinquished her fighting stance.

Her gaze flitted up again though, eyeing Hashnak warily, yet Hashnak recognised the defeated slump of the narrow shoulders, the chin dipped to her chest.

Hashnak rolled her yellow eyes, before dropping her pack she stormed over to her and clapped her roughly on the shoulder.

"Now look 'ere..." Hashnak began and her eyes flickered up expectantly.

Hashnak groaned, "don't look a' me like you're a whelp of ta litter kick'd out in ta cold!" Hashnak swallowed thickly as she tried to look fierce and disapproving.

Immediately her expression hardened to one of steel eyes and stern jaw and Hashnak indulged herself a fleeting fond smile before her own expression hardened.

"Good - now, keep yer visor low ov'r yer eyes, see. Remember to always raise yer shield arm high to cover ya from neck ta hip and all ta important bits b'tween, see?"

She nodded firmly, her gaze keen and focused and Hashnak grunted in approval. "An' don't be swingin yer sword like a lunatic like Dranic," Hashnak added, "b'sides yer ribs wouldn't last it like that," Hashnak poked at her middle. She winced far more than Hashnak would've liked even with the support of the tighter bandaging and leather support.

"Ya think we'll lose?" she asked, and though she tried she couldn't keep the tremor of fear from her voice.

Hashnak stilled for a moment, eyeing her before she jutted out her chin, "dunno...maybe, maybe not - just got a bad feelin' s'all."

"And a bad feelin' tis enough ta make ya abandon...?" her voice trailed off, her eyes attempting to look angry but the desperate flicker in them was only too clear to Hashnak.

"Gah, don't be like 'at - that sorta whingeing suited more ta Dranic," Hashnak coaxed a small fleeting smirk out of her.

Then her expression sobered, the small smile vanishing, "you saw somefin in the flames didn't ya?" her eyes were far too keen and Hashnak smiled ruefully internally, remembering how they had always been far too perceptive.

"Dunno - maybe, maybe not," Hashnak replied.

The other growled low in her throat and Hashnak gave a loud bellowing laugh, ignoring the shouts of complaint that came from the camp.

"T-tha' was good," Hashnak remarked, wiping the moisture of amusement from her eyes, "keep workin' on tha'"

The other flashed a dopey grin, a faint dusting on pink tingeing her cheeks as she shoved Hashnak's shoulder.

And then a heavy silence fell, pregnant with a hundred things left unsaid, but in the end all it came down to was a simple few words.

Hashnak shoved her pack up higher on her shoulder, looking first to the rising sun in the East and then to the West.

"Take care 'f yerself runt," Hashnak clapped her on the shoulder before brushing by her.

A moment and she was gone.

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><p>The dying shriek of a goblin as the crushing weight of rock thudded against the earth tore through her eardrums as she gritted her teeth.<p>

Deftly darting to the side she avoided the grey monolith with its crushed victims now beneath.

She kept her head low, sword clasped in her sweaty palms a comforting weight as she moved as one ever onward in this maelstrom of shrieks, boiled leather and sharpened metal.

Their huge mass spread across the green plains, blotting out everything like a stain as they gained ground, the sun beating down upon her shoulders.

"Aim fer 'er legs!" the piece of guttural shouted advice was the last thing she understood, her eyes rising for a brief moment to connect with the owner of the words.

Druhk's one good yellow eye effortlessly sought and found her out amongst the advancing ranks and he gave a crooked sort of grin, one sharpened fang sticking out as he nodded briefly at her.

Her heart thumped furiously in her ribcage like an animal thrashing about trying to escape. She tried to swallow but her throat was as dry as desert sands, and her too large visor kept falling over her eyes. And yet without conscious thought...still her legs propelled her forward towards, towards...

She warned herself not to look but she couldn't help as her gaze rose to look beyond dwarves pointed helmets, between the hulking bodies of Minotaurs and between the thundering giants' legs - and then she saw them.

They were shaped like a silver arrow as they moved fluidly with deadly precision across the green plains, red and gold banners fluttering high, the sun catching gold and silver armour alike in blinding flashes of light. She felt her mouth fall open as she beheld him; suited all in silver armour that gleamed and flashed and burned in the sun's rays so he seemed to be the embodiment of light itself upon his white steed come to wipe out their dark blot.

They had been assured they would win; they had the bigger numbers, the better weapons and the dark cold magic of _her _behind them in her deadly sceptre.

But she couldn't help remember Hashnak's grumbled words to her at dawn that morning before she had left, disappearing into the early morning mist until she had become nothing more than a shadowy blot that vanished into nothing.

_This night has lasted long enough..._

She forced down the rising tide of fear reaching for that numb part of her that would allow her to blot out everything else - to focus on the only thing that mattered; surviving.

She began to count her breaths as she ran, feeling the vibrations of each running footstep connecting with the earth shudder through her frame.

A ghost of a breath whispered against her skin for a brief moment and then she caught the flashes of white fur as their feline allies raced by her.

"Keep yer eyes open runt!" she heard Dranic's voice boom in her ears for a brief moment and then suddenly - she was fighting, they had impacted with the enemy lines. Their lines had bled together in a raging maelstrom.

The red and gold banners were lowered now spattered with crimson blood and broken upon the ground embedded in the bowels of an unfortunate Minotaur.

She ducked just in time to miss the high arching silver sword before it could be brought down upon her and whirling her black sword bit out to sink into yielding flesh as a crimson scream sounded.

She pulled her sword free, staggering back with a hiss as pain lanced through her torso; however she was swiftly knocked aside to the ground and her eyes wide she swung her arms blindly despite Hashnak's warnings, not sure if her sword hit something or not.

Metal caught her sword with a resounding clash that reverberated through her arms right to her gritted teeth. She was soundly hauled to her feet and a snarling face loomed before her for a moment, "watch yer back runt," Dranic said, his red eyes flashing as he shoved her away once more to lock swords with a centaur in gleaming silver armour.

She ground her teeth together in angered annoyance at her own disjointed fighting and lashing out with a fierce snarl her sword cleaved clean through armour and bone alike from shoulder to hip of her unlucky victim.

With a fierce tug her sword came free releasing a shower of ruby red raindrops.

Soon she had developed a rhythm with her sword; a deadly dance as she weaved in and out amongst the silver, red and gold armour, her obsidian blade finding flesh each time. Rarely did she make an instantaneous kill blow, but the wounds she caused were deep and long-term – fatal.

Then a horn sounded, long and urgent.

The golden army before turned – turned and fled. Many beside her snarled in victory not thinking twice before racing after them but she glanced to Druhk, saw his one good eye scanning the high cliffs above. She too had seen the golden army's archers ready and waiting for them.

But it was too late – too late to call back the troops and besides Druhk couldn't even if he wanted to, because _she _was behind them, ordering them on and on – ever onward.

Pulse hammering against fevered skin she pushed on, swallowing down the bile, the pain lancing through her torso that felt like she was being skewered by a hundred white hot pokers.

She was exhausted and even as she ran, following the golden army, she raised a hand to wipe across her brow, pushing the oversized visor up.

Adrenaline had coursed through her veins when she had danced with her blade, but now this tedious running, the churning feeling in her stomach as she thought of all those archers with their silver and gold arrows waiting for them, she was beating against a steadily building wall of exhaustion.

They were bottled into a valley of some sort with towering white rock on either side of them, where a great river once ran through. But the only thing that rained on them was the hale after hale of arrows the free Narnians released on them.

Dropping to her knees to make herself as small a target as possible, she raised her shield above her head, gritting her teeth as the impact of the arrows striking her shield shuddered through her whole body.

"MOVE!" Druhk's order had her on her feet again, darting forward, keep moving to make herself a harder target as the arrows rained down unrelenting.

She had made it forward about another meter or so when a shriek almost inhuman rose in her throat and she fell to the ground the pain tearing through her shoulder like fire.

They pushed on past her, heavy metal boot-falls causing the ground around to almost tremble.

Her shield lay forgotten, her useless arm hanging limp at her side.

She gritted her teeth against the pain, darting across to take shelter and respite behind an outcropping boulder as she ripped off her visor.

She had barely been there a moment when Dranic's face was shoved into hers. She almost snarled in annoyance, how was she meant to prove herself a warrior once and for all if Hashnak had told them all to keep an eye on her as if she were…were a _runt._

"Wha 'ave ya done ta yerself now runt?" he effortlessly pulled her hands away despite her snapping fiercely at him.

All around them shrieks and screams filled the air as goblins and Minotaurs alike fell heavily to the ground, multiple arrows protruding from them.

However Dranic barely seemed to notice as he looked at the long silvered arrow embedded in her shoulder, having gone right through and sprouting out the other side, coated in crimson.

"Nasty 'at," he remarked almost casually. She growled at him, but he barely seemed to notice.

"Right – bite a' somefin'" he barely give her a moment's notice.

"Bu' Hashnak says nev'r ta rip an arAHHHHHH!" her warning was ignored as without a second thought Dranic gripped the shaft of the arrow and with a sharp tug pulled it clean from her shoulder.

Her howl of pain was only swallowed in the rising tide of noise as the battle continued on around them.

"Wha' ya screamin' like 'at fer?" Dranic grumbled as he ripped a length of the end of his tunic that hung out at the end of his armour.

She was breathing harshly though her teeth, eyes almost bulging from her skull as the pain lanced like brilliant crimson fire though her shoulder – the dull pain in her ribs entirely forgotten in comparison.

Dranic pulled her up to a sitting position before he wrapped the length of material around her shoulder with little thought to gentleness but rather speed before he tied it tightly.

She barely grimaced when the make-shift bandage was tied – nothing could be more painful than Dranic pulling that arrow from her shoulder she was convinced.

"Right runt – tha' should see ya thru' til this is al' over – wait it out 'ere – I'll come bac' and get ya…"

"I can still fight ya know!" she tried to argue, but her entire body was shaking as she clenched her teeth.

"Don't be a' ass – Hashnak would 'ave ma hide if ya got yerself kill'd" Dranic cut across her fiercely, "now wait 'ere – don't move," he told her, adding in a low growl to show he meant it as a threat.

She bared her teeth back at him, though it was a feeble gesture considering the amount of pain she was in.

"I'll be bac' fer ya – an' I'll bring ya tha' boy king's head ta cheer ya up," he grinned cockily and she rolled her eyes at him, clutching at her shoulder, but it didn't matter Dranic was already away.

It was hardly fair she considered mentally, Dranic was three times her size and he barely if ever raised his bloody shield and yet she was the one that managed to get shot with the arrow.

She was never going to hear the end of this she noted sourly.

She leaned her head back against the surface of the boulder behind her, forcing herself to take calming breaths – panicked breathing would only make her heart pump faster – making her wound bleed more; Hashnak's constant interferences hadn't gone completely to waste she thought wryly for a moment.

She grimaced feeling the warmth of her own hot blood running down the length of her arm, pooling in the palm of her hand.

Dranic was a bloody idiot she cursed inwardly – if only he hadn't of pulled the damn arrow. He could have cut it as close to the wound as possible and she could have gone on.

She yelped suddenly when a body was flung down beside her, almost shoving her out of the cover of her rock.

She looked up into the familiar dark ruby eyes and felt the growl bubbling in her throat.

"Ay' runt wha' are ya doin' 'ere?"

She opened her mouth to speak when he spoke over her again, smirking when he noticed the pulsing red between her fingers, "got yerself shot did ya'?"

"Shut it Ruitak!" she threatened.

He laughed harshly, "love ta stay n' chat wif ya runt bu' some 'f us hav' actually got ta fight 'is battle," and he was gone with a cocky grin just like his older brother moments before him.

She had just tightened the bandage even further – raising her arm slightly with a great effort to reduce the blood-flow – when she felt something creep across her skin like an icy whisper, a burning cold touch, a deadly caress.

She raised her eyes and felt the blood in her veins run cold as she saw _her. _

Tall and pale and terrible stood Queen Jadis of Narnia; the White Witch.

In one hand she grasped the reins of her iron chariot and in the other her gleaming deadly sceptre.

For a moment the White Witch seemed frozen almost like one of the statues in her ice palace but then her eyes snapped around surveying the battle field.

Her breath hitched in her throat as the cold eyes fell on her for barely a split second – but a second too long all the same.

She got up then and sheathing her black blade she grabbed her shield and ran – towards the fight.

There was just as much danger if the White Witch caught her sitting behind that rock while the battle was still raging as there was if she rushed towards the golden and silver army.

Swallowing down the pain she ran keeping her shield raised.

She had been so focused on just running that she ducked barely in time to narrowly miss being skewered by a rhino as it charged through their ranks.

For a moment she paused, forgetting to run watching the rhino charge, watching as the imps cut at its legs that were as thick as tree trunks, "fool…" she breathed under her breath, moments before she watched as the rhino was brought to the ground only for a centaur in gleaming silver to leap over it, charging – charging.

Her breath caught, stuttered as first her Captain fell then, the gleaming silver warrior went – went for _her._

His sword flashed out like a tongue of flame caught in the noonday sun and then a cold blue light burst forth and the centaur was no more than a frozen statue of stone.

She turned – the battle was still raging.

Very soon she had no other choice but to abandon her shield – her arm could no longer support it and she felt safer with her black blade in her hand to attack than with just a shield to defend.

Her strikes grew weaker as her body tired – even faster considering the blood-flow that pulsed from her shoulder freely.

Her fighting devolved to mostly dodging and running from cover to cover, dealing a sly move to an enemy's legs as she darted past before collapsing for a much needed moment's respite in relative cover.

She was crouching beside another boulder – she was mostly ignored, given her general appearance meant many overlooked her as already dead; her left side now entirely drenched with crimson blood.

Her head felt heavy as she lifted it, blinked – tried to look for her next spot to run to.

She didn't see another spot though – what she saw was a brilliant flash of blinding blue as a warrior no more a boy in crimson and silver armour with dark eyes brought his silver sword down upon the White Witch's sceptre.

Shattered.

For a moment she forgot to breathe.

Then the White Witch bared her teeth before with a few deft moves her shattered sceptre found retribution in the boy's gut and he fell to the ground soundlessly.

She felt incredibly light, her vision for a moment swimming; it most likely was the severe loss of blood but even as black spots blurred across her vision her mind burned with the image of the pale determined boy's face before he had destroyed the greatest weapon they had.

Hashnak's words echoed in her mind clearer than ever…_this night has lasted long enough._

And then it was as though the night had taken her itself as she slipped under its veil of darkness.

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><p>Her teeth knocked harshly against one another so much she almost bit her tongue off.<p>

Her senses came blaring in in a riotous chaos, every single feeling coloured with pain.

She blinked opened her eyes staring into familiar red eyes.

"Wha' did I tell ya?!" Dranic growled, before with barely any effort he lifted her and slung her carelessly over his shoulder.

She didn't even have the energy to protest as Dranic took off at a brisk jog, each movement jolting through her entire body with a flaring pain.

Suddenly Dranic flung her down on the ground and she managed the effort to snarl at him.

He glared darkly at her, "stay put!" he shouted, before he took off again.

She didn't listen to him though as she surged onward, her black blade knocked against the length of her leg – she hadn't the strength to draw it anymore.

She tried desperately to keep Dranic in her line of sight – she needed to tell him what she had seen, about Hashnak's words, about the growing dread in her gut about how this battle would end.

However she had lost him within moments and she found herself caught in the fray once more; a few darting movements and dodges though and she was able to stand panting as she looked around her.

Their numbers were in strength here, allowing her the luxury of standing still during a battle; everywhere she looked the enemy soldiers were falling.

She breathed harshly through her nose; perhaps she had been mistaken, perhaps Hashnak's warnings had all been for naught.

However the brief reassurances were all forgotten, smashed to irretrievable pieces as it tore through her body, rumbled through the very ground, shattered the very air all around her.

A roar.

She looked up, terrified yet knowing.

The lion – the one that was supposed to be _dead _stood bathed in golden light on a white precipice high above her and at his back came an army.

She staggered in terrified disbelief for a moment, the horrified exclamations of similar disbelief from those around her nothing more than a distant din in her ears.

She turned and ran, fear and adrenaline fuelling her exhausted limbs.

She couldn't have cared less if she had ran past the White Witch herself; she realised she had feared the wrong one all along.

How could she have thought that the tall pale witch with her now shattered sceptre could possibly win against the lion that had defeated death itself?

As she ran, blood pounding in her ears she saw Dranic poised with his blade held high, darkened with ruby blood, ready to bring it down on – with a jolt of shock she saw Dranic's intended victim; the dark eyed boy who had shattered the witch's sceptre.

She didn't think twice, her pain only seemed to fuel her on as she barrelled straight into Dranic and despite her considerable slighter frame she was able to take him unawares and pummel him to the ground.

A vicious snarl was ripped from Dranic's throat and for a moment she could only feel her breath hitch in her throat as she saw the black sword arc through the air before it stilled suddenly.

"Runt?"

She looked up, eyes wide before events snapped into place around her and she remembered why she had just taken such an impulsive and reckless action.

"Dranic we need 'a get outta 'ere," she rushed together quickly, clutching her left side as after the initial adrenaline fuelled by her fear began to ebb the pain began to set back in.

Dranic growled at her, before his eyes flitted upward and he stood abruptly blocking a silver arching sword before killing it's owner.

"Wha' d'ya fink yer doin' runnin' 'bout ta place…" Dranic began angrily once more looming over her.

"Listen ta me! We gotta go – get Ruitak, Druhk."

He looked to her, breathing harshly, before his eyes darted away again. He tensed ready for another fight but the enemy he had spotted was suddenly engaged by another.

"Runt look ya gotta get yerself somewhere low n' hide," he told her, making to move away when her arm shot out suddenly grabbing his wrist.

"Gah Dranic! I seen 'im," something in the very palpable fear in her trembling eyes made him pause and he stared at her intently, teeth bared.

"The lion – he's 'ere, I saw 'im n' he's brought a' whole army wif 'im," she surged upwards, clutching onto Dranic's forearm now with all her strength, her eyes wide in stark fear.

Dranic paused for a considerable moment before he shook her off roughly and she fell to the ground with a strangled yelp as she gritted her teeth against the pain, "yer liein', big cat's dead," he accused but there was a sceptical glint to his ruby red eyes.

"Nah – I'm not," she shouted back fiercely, her expression earnest.

And suddenly they both heard it; a fierce battle cry that rose like a tide fast approaching them.

Dranic's head snapped around, her own rising to look up the green slope, dotted with boulders.

For it wasn't the harsh guttural disharmony of their army, it was a song of victory – for their enemy.

"Go – run."

"Dranic?!"

"GO!" Dranic bellowed, pushing her roughly away and further down the hill.

She stumbled, hesitated, remembering Hashnak's words.

_Be ready to run if things start to look bad…_

Things were looking bad alright, she thought inwardly, but surely Hashnak didn't mean she had to abandon…

She lifted her head, opening her mouth to call for Dranic but he was gone and all she saw at the crest of the green slope barrelling down them was hordes of more of the silver army.

She ran then, stumbling and falling, half-tumbling and half-sprinting down the green slopes; her legs were burning, her ribs were on fire, her shoulder was ablaze and crimson blood burned its way up her throat until its coppery taste filled her mouth, but still she ran.

She pitched forward suddenly, struggled to right herself in time, tumbled forward with an alarming alacrity, narrowly missed disembowelling herself with her own obsidian blade; collapsed shaking at the bottom of her descent.

Her panicked breaths rattled out of her battered ribcage and she wondered briefly if it wouldn't just be less trouble to stop struggling for each painful gasp of air.

She could no longer feel her left arm, her entire body was drenched in a cold sweat as her body convulsed; finally giving up due to its intensive loss of blood.

She rolled onto her back, looking up at the clear sky, a fantastic bright clear blue. It made her think of cool crisp water on her tongue instead of the metallic tang of her own blood.

_This night has lasted long enough…_

The dawn had come at last.

For a brief moment she wondered if Hashnak had already seen this; that she would die here on this battlefield.

She felt a surge of malevolent anger that Hashnak would so willingly let her go into battle then, but the anger evaporated almost instantaneously.

She knew Hashnak wouldn't do that, and even if Hashnak had of suspected; it mattered little either way now.

This battlefield and the clear blue dawning sky of their victorious enemy would be the last things she would know.

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><p>So your thoughts hopefully? Constructive criticism, questions etc. whatever; I really appreciate even a few words of feedback.<p> 


	2. Second Chances

**The Just King's Companion**

**Chapter II – Second Chances**

"Wait!" Edmund called sharply and the Faun paused looking to the young boy expectantly.

"Ed, what is it?" Lucy asked at his side.

Edmund frowned for a moment, casting his sister a troubled look before he darted quickly over to where the Faun was poised, silver blade drawn over the hunched figure on the ground.

He knelt down, grimacing slightly at the amount of blood – everywhere it seemed; his hands hovering uncertainly before he turned the figure over to lie flat.

"Peter!" Susan called sharply and when Peter followed Susan's frantic line of sight he saw their only recently revived brother kneeling down beside the body of an enemy, Lucy looking over Edmund's shoulder almost curiously, though she bit her bottom lip worriedly.

"Edmund!" Peter in turn called sharply as Peter and Susan rushed over to their younger siblings.

Two more Fauns, a Centaur and a cheetah all followed briskly, immediately concerned for the safety of their to-be-monarchs. They were not about to let them die at the dying vindictive acts of an enemy soldier after they had won the war.

Peter clapped an affirmative hand on Edmund's shoulder, hauling him to his feet and away from the prone figure.

"What are you doing?" Susan inquired sharply, her expression creased with concern.

Those who had followed their monarchs stood with unsheathed weapons and ready to pounce but it was unneeded for the figure on the ground was blind to the world around her.

"I know her," Edmund said earnestly.

"What?" Lucy asked wide-eyed.

Edmund saw their expressions and the uncertainty that came over those gathered around them at his statement.

He realised that they all thought he meant he knew her from his captivity at the White Witch's camp or _worse _he had once been allies with her.

Edmund hurried to reassure them, "no – I mean during the battle," expressions smoothed and postures relaxed all around, until Edmund's next statement that seemed to cause even greater unease.

"She saved me," Edmund announced bravely.

Peter and Susan exchanged glances and Susan nodded to Peter, urging him on.

"Ed – are you sure?" Peter asked sceptically.

"In the midst of battle it is easy to mistake things for that which they are not," a Faun – the one who had initially been about to dispatch of the enemy soldier said solemnly, looking towards Peter as the eldest.

Peter glanced briefly, acknowledging the Faun before returning his gaze to Edmund; his expression torn between scepticism and trust.

Edmund stood with his shoulders squared; his expression wasn't so much defiant as it was sure.

He was confident in what he had saw; his breathing coming out in pained spurts, a black blade coming down towards him before the owner of the crimson coated blade was knocked to the ground by another.

Edmund had caught a brief glimpse of her face, smeared and spattered with blood and dirt, eyes wide and desperate.

That same face he saw before him now; though her eyes were now closed, her chest rising shallowly.

"I'm sure," Edmund replied gravely, seemingly for a moment much older than his years.

Peter heaved a weighted sigh, his expression still troubled looking from between the resolute stance of his younger brother and the stern expressions of the Narnians gathered.

"I believe him," Lucy surprised them when she piped up, as she looked up at Edmund and offered him a small smile which Edmund returned with a grateful one of his own.

Suddenly there were sharp gasps and murmured courtesies and the Pevensie children turned to see Aslan padding towards them.

He smiled gently at them as he approached and the four yet-to-be-crowned monarchs bowed their heads almost instinctively.

"Lucy – there are still those wounded on the field who require your attention," the lion looked to the youngest Pevensie expectantly.

And then Aslan turned his head, his golden mane rustled gently by some unseen breeze, "I see one such wounded here," Aslan said meaningfully, his knowing golden gaze resting on the prone figure of the enemy soldier who Edmund claimed had saved his life.

Surreptitious glances were exchanged; surprise and shock dominating most expressions.

Lucy looked up at Edmund with a brief grin, clutching the bottle of the fireflower juice tighter and Edmund nodded to her.

"Aslan, forgive me for being so bold to question your judgement, but…she is an enemy soldier. Her black blade wears the blood of our fallen friends," the Faun from before spoke up, his head bowed low in the utmost respect, but his expression painfully earnest.

Aslan looked to the Faun understandingly, his golden eyes gentle as they saw the inner battle fighting within the Faun who would gladly give his life for Aslan but could not bring himself to be at peace to allow this enemy soldier to live when friends he had loved dearly could have fallen at her blade.

"And yet another black blade does not bear the blood of Edmund because of her actions."

Edmund bowed his head low, feeling slightly uncomfortable.

He almost nervously glanced at the Faun; he knew the Faun would without a shadow of a doubt adhere to Aslan's will but Edmund felt unworthy that he alone was the reason the Faun was being asked to set aside all his grievances over fallen friends and perhaps loved ones.

However the expression on the Faun's face when his gaze settled on Edmund wasn't one of begrudging tolerance or hated but rather peaceful acceptance and understanding.

"To kill an enemy regardless of skill is an easy thing to do, but to save an enemy's life is a feat far more difficult," Aslan intoned, His gaze finally settling on Edmund.

Edmund raised his head then, feeling a sense of righteousness in his decision arise in him; he had done the just thing.

However Edmund couldn't be sure if by _saving an enemy's life _Aslan meant Edmund saving hers, or she saving Edmund's.

The decision having been made it was as though an innate signal was given and the pointed weapons were diverted away from the prone figure and Lucy rushed determinedly over to her side once more to kneel beside her.

Edmund met Aslan's gaze once and nodded in thanks, before he followed Lucy and knelt on the opposite side of her.

Peter and Susan who had remained silent – like all – in lieu of Aslan's decision walked to stand above their younger siblings as a caution but also as support.

"Perhaps she is too far gone?" Susan worried briefly upon beholding the extent of the injuries obtained and the amount of blood.

Lucy, despite her young age gave only a brief grimace at the gruesome sight before swallowing determinedly she leaned forward, the glass bottle tilted forward slightly to release one ruby red drop that fell between parted lips already caked in blood and dirt.

At first there was nothing immediately noticeable except that her shallow breathing evened out, became deeper and longer, and for a moment Edmund feared she would just slip on regardless.

However barely had the thought crossed his mind than he heard a sharp intake of breath and looking down he was meet with two yellow catlike eyes.

* * *

><p>"And make sure the order is passed along," Edmund said firmly, but with an almost gentle uncertainty.<p>

Mr Beaver took a deep breath, puffing his chest out for a considering moment before he released it, "right you are lad, but…" he looked up at Edmund, "they ain't going to like it."

Edmund swallowed nervously but held his ground firmly, "I know, but sometimes the right thing to do isn't always the easiest thing," and when Edmund said it there was a deep strength to his words that made those watching for a moment able to see beyond the young boy in blood-spattered armour to the great and wise King he would become.

Orieus, having already been revived by the lion's breath was standing nearby heard Edmund's words and came over to stand before him.

Edmund looked up at Orieus towering above him, his gaze determined.

"I will see that the order is carried out," he said with a respectful bow.

Edmund exhaled in relief, thanking him as Orieus set about to see that Edmund's orders were adhered to.

_All enemy soldiers who surrendered were to be taken prisoner but otherwise unharmed…_

Edmund was more than aware that the order would be a less than popular one, but…the White Witch was gone from this earth and hence none should still have to die for her.

The White Witch's foul magic and foul deeds were to die with her. Edmund considered that to kill those who clearly no longer wanted to fight upon seeing the battle was lost – even if they were enemy soldiers, would be something the White Witch would do. To kill those who had surrendered was not the right or just thing to do Edmund was convinced.

Besides, the White Witch's main method of control was fear; Edmund was under no illusions, he knew the great majority of those who followed the White Witch were malevolent spiteful creatures, brought low and haggard by their hate.

But…Edmund also knew that there were those who followed the White Witch out of fear; hadn't Mr. Tumnus been willing to turn Lucy over initially?

And even worse still – there were those like…him.

Enthralled, tricked and deceived by the White Witch's cunning and magic.

Edmund felt – _knew _that he was the _only _one who could possibly understand and speak up for those beings that were like him, even if it would mean that the Free Narnians would grumble discontentedly about his decision.

If a traitor like him could be forgiven then so could those willing to denounce the White Witch and begin a new life in a Free Narnia, seeking repentance for their service under the White Witch if it was voluntary and hoping to make amends.

Narnia had been held in the dead of the White Witch's Winter's icy grasps for too long and now Spring and victory had come once again; where life was being reborn once more into Narnia.

"Sire why are you doing this?"

Edmund startled, looking down beside him where he saw the sleek red fur coat of the fox he had tried to save from the White Witch.

The fox's black intelligent eyes were gazing up at him but there was none of the anger Edmund had expected in them, but rather thoughtful curiousity.

Edmund took a deep resolving breath before he answered, "because everyone deserves a second chance."

* * *

><p>It took them quite a long while to see to all that needed them on the battlefield. However during it Edmund found the time to visit the life of her that he had saved.<p>

Reunited with Philip the chestnut stallion effortlessly picked its way down the slope to where Narnians stood guard around the enemy soldiers who had surrendered.

She was standing at a slight remove from the main body of the group, her strange slanted yellow eyes scouring the field eagerly.

At first glance Edmund supposed she wasn't that different from a human girl; same height and shape primarily.

Though she was quite a bit taller than her younger face would suggest, with long limbs; gangly he supposed the right word would be and when she moved – darting to and fro as she scanned the battlefield – she seemed to move with an almost loping grace; her movements swift and agile.

It was hard to tell what she looked like behind the blood and dirt caking her face that she paid no mind to however her strange eyes stood out definitively.

They were not unique by any stretch; Edmund had seen flashes of them luminous yellow and livid reds during the battle.

They were larger than his eyes were, more almond shaped and inclined yet sharp and keen with dark sweeping brows above them to match and dark inky irises.

Her ears, Edmund watched for a moment in complete fascination as they twitched forward.

He considered they were like a horse's only more elongated and flattened against her skull and placed were a human's ears where rather than a horse's, however when he had made this observation aloud, Phillip had snorted indignantly.

He couldn't see much more given she was at a distance and he didn't feel giving her a full scrutinising once over would be appropriate.

"What is she?" Edmund mused aloud.

Edmund watched as she suddenly moved sharply; the heavy black braid her hair was tied back in cutting the air like a scythe.

Then Edmund strained forward in the saddle suddenly and he spurred Phillip on just as the goblin lunged for her.

* * *

><p>"I shoulda known a runt like you would survive," the goblin sneered at her from where he stood clutching at his wounded arm.<p>

She narrowed her eyes, growling low in her throat in warning, "'at's funny, 'cause I thought you'd be dead."

The goblin snapped the air taking a few calculating steps forward, slinking ever nearer to her, but she ignored it.

She returned her eager gaze out over the green fields now stained red, searching desperately for any of them; Dranic, Ruitak, Druhk. But she could see none of them.

A dwarf scowled darkly as disarmed he was shown to this make-shift prisoner camp.

His gaze fell on her for a moment and he frowned, "I saw you fall," he accused sharply in his heavily accented voice.

She jutted her chin out defiantly, "you saw wrong 'en," she replied confidently.

The dwarf shook his head resolutely, "no – I saw the arrow pierce your shoulder…"

She growled over him, "does 't look like a' been hit with any arrow?"

A slow calculating smile grew on the dwarf's face as some thought occurred to him.

She snapped her gaze around as she heard a great bellow but it wasn't any of who she was hoping it would be just a Minotaur foolish enough to try and take down two Centaurs when the battle was well and truly over and the White Witch vanquished.

"You took down Dranic…" she turned sharply, feeling her heartbeat quicken as she stared at the dwarf and he continued, "right before he was about to kill the traitor King."

Time seemed to stand still for a split second as muttered conversations fell silent and gazes slid slowly to settle on her.

"You all hear 'at – ta runt sav'd ta traitor king's life!" the goblin screeched in half-indignation, half malevolent glee.

She snarled at the dwarf, "I did no such fing – 't wasn't like 'at!"

But it was too late, the rumour spread through the forty or so surrendered like wildfire.

"Oh really," the dwarf drawled, a wicked gleam in his eyes, "then why does your tunic bear a wound that your shoulder does not – unless you have had some of the daughter of Eve's magic potion!"

She saw the goblin lunge a split second before he collided with her, bringing her roughly to the ground.

She gritted her teeth against the expected pain to flare in her ribs, her shoulder but she realised quickly that the daughter of Eve's potion had as the damnably clever dwarf noticed taken care of all her injuries.

Effortlessly she shoved the injured goblin off her, but before she could launch a fierce attack of her own she was interrupted.

"Stop!" the sound of galloping reached her ears just as she and the goblin were hauled away from one another.

She whipped around angrily towards the interruption, teeth bared when she paled noticing the dark eyed boy; the one she had stopped Dranic from killing, the one who's face had been hovering above hers when she had opened her eyes convinced she was dead…the boy King who's life she had saved.

"What's going on here?" he demanded, his tone authoritative despite his voice being young.

"Fighting amongst the prisoners Sire," one of the guards answered immediately.

"About what?" she shrunk back, a dark expression on her face as the boy King's gaze fell on her almost expectantly.

What did he expect her to answer him? – As though they were friends or allies or something? Those around her would take it as definitive proof that she had meant to save him, that she was a coward, a turncoat – they would kill her.

She tilted her chin high, glaring darkly but the boy King never faltered or flailed much to her disappointment.

As it was clear that none was going to admit the reason for the fight the boy King turned to one of the guards, "if there is fighting separate them," he ordered and the guard answered his compliance.

The boy King mumbled his thanks to the guard before he spurred his horse onwards; however she caught his dark curious gaze turn back to look at her more than once.

* * *

><p>The sun had long dipped into late afternoon before they had started moving.<p>

She limped heavily on her right leg.

The goblin – Akhanic, and the dwarf – Tij she had learned, had tripped her quite badly as she passed them, the goblin driving his knee into the back of her own as she went down, the dwarf's heaving iron-clad foot coming down harshly on her ankle until she felt the snap and heard the audible crack.

They were being directed away from the battlefield, up the valley and she couldn't help her gaze as it kept turning back eagerly to scan the grasses for any sign of Druhk, Ruitak or Dranic.

She gritted her teeth as she stumbled for the third time; climbing the slope was a painful and tricky task with a busted ankle. She didn't think the bone had shattered completely; she had broken it enough times to know what that felt like but it was more than just a bad sprain.

Still she pushed on grimly; if for no other reason than she had no other choice as the Free Narnians guarding them urged them on with stern sharp words and pointed swords if they halted.

Though one Faun guarding them had saw her limping heavily and had at least spared her a grubby bandage to wrap around her ankle for some minimal support.

She had grumbled her thanks but the Faun was already turned away from her.

However the one thin bandage had long passed into the realms of completely redundant as red hot pain lanced through her ankle like a hot poker each time she placed her weight on it.

She was already breathing heavily, sweat beating off her brow as though she were running for her life through rough terrain rather than just climbing a hill at a leisurely pace.

"What happened to your leg?"

She almost fell flat on her face in the mud, having not heard the horse even come up beside her she was so concentrated on putting one foot in front of the other, besides among the general noise of moving a whole army one horse's hoof beats were swiftly lost.

Those dark curious eyes were looking down at her again, only now they were tinged with almost concern.

She wanted to scoff at the ridiculousness of it all, but she didn't because she could see the earnest expression on the boy King's face.

"None a' yer business," she snapped, returning her gaze resolutely to in front of her.

"Did it happen during the battle?"

She whipped her head around, baring her teeth, "are ya deaf?"

He frowned thoughtfully, "Lucy said one drop healed all injuries," he murmured almost to himself but her sharp ears caught it.

She sniffed, pausing for a reluctant moment before relenting she admitted, "didn't happ'n durin' ta battle."

"Oh," he remarked quietly, then realisation dawned and with it a deeper frown marred his brow.

"Did you fall?"

She gritted her teeth in annoyance, "gah! No! – I ain't one 'a yer delicate ladies 'at breaks 'er foot 'f she gotta walk more 'an a mile," she said indignantly, puffing her chest out proudly.

"So it was deliberate then," the boy King reasoned.

She opened her mouth before snapping it shut, sending him a dark glare. She didn't like how he was able to figure out things like that just from the answers she gave him alone.

She caught his gaze as it darted about their scraggly line of prisoners, before his gaze settled on Akhanic and Tij further on up the line, who were swapping grumbling complaints.

Her glare darkened; those dark eyes of this boy King were far too perceptive she reasoned.

"Why do they not like you? – Are you not meant to be allies in the same army together?"

She frowned up at him; she hated how foolish she must be looking limping around jerkily while he trotted easily along beside her on his great stallion.

He seemed to realise at the same time as her for he spoke before she could even tell him to mind his own business again.

"Why don't you get on the litter for the injured, it must be painful for you to walk?"

"I ain't a cripple!" she snapped, forcing herself to walk faster despite the pain that shot up her leg in protest.

He effortlessly kept stride beside her and she slowed her pace, realising that trying to outrun him while he was on a horse and she had a bad ankle was a stupid thing to do and would only do herself more harm and make her look more foolish than she already did.

"What's your name?"

She scowled darkly up at him for a moment, jutting out her chin defiantly, "don't have one," she answered.

He blinked as he looked down at her, "you don't have a name?" he repeated, incredulous.

"That's what a' said wasn't it?" she grumbled, avoiding his gaze.

A silence stretched for a few moments as she trudged along, limping heavily on her right leg though she was too stubborn to admit defeat and climb on the back of the litter with the other injured.

"Would you like one?" he inquired curious.

She looked up at him with blazing eyes and a ready scowl, ready to vehemently deny anything he offered her, only to falter as she realised his question.

She looked down then just as quickly, her eyes trained on the red spattered boots of the prisoner before her as for some unfathomable reason she felt her cheeks burn up in a traitorous blush.

She chose to remain silent, considering it the safest option, and she chanced a particularly malevolent glare at the boy King sat astride his horse that was making her feel so uncomfortable with his innocent questions.

"If you have no name, what would people call you if they needed to speak with you?"

She ground her teeth together as his voice once more sounded from above her.

They had called her something - it just wasn't her name.

At first it had been a snide insult muttered as Hashnak would hand her a plate of food..."why does 'at runt get anyfin?" another would remark with glaring eyes. Hashnak would growl fiercely at that and the disgruntled goblin or hag would go slinking off to be discontent elsewhere with their meagre portion.

Then it had stuck with her...Druhk would say it with an almost fond rumble, Dranic and Ruitak made it sound like an embarrassing nickname she would never live down and Hashnak, depending on her moods could make it sound like a curse or an endearment.

She had hated it and as such she had strove hard to rid herself of it. She worked every day with her blade, bow and daggers; it was a long slow and painful process and Hashnak invented at least twelve new poultices for a whole range of wounds using her alone.

However gradually she improved herself, proved that she deserved the plate of food she received as much as any of the hardened warriors there that sat around the campfire - she wasn't the runt of the litter snatching at the leftover scraps.

Despite her improvements though the name hadn't lifted, they still called her _Runt _however something had changed...there was almost a sense of pride in her then at it.

It was no longer a snide remark at her status but she wore it almost proudly as a sign of how far she had come, from being the runt of the litter to being able to hiss and watch a scraggy hag hurriedly vacate their spot at the campfire for her.

Realising she had yet to answer the boyish King with his mop of dark hair falling over his dark eyes, she tilted her chin upwards facing him with defiant eyes, "Runt," she told him.

She saw the confusion crease his brow, his eyes narrow in sceptical puzzlement, "runt?" he repeated.

She nodded once, "they called me Runt."

* * *

><p>Especial thanks to GothGirl1996 and HungerGamesQueen100 for follows  favourites and reviews! Very much appreciated.

Please let me know what you think if you have the time to drop a few words!


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